𝗖𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘇𝗶.
Joined April 2017
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dilemma, he shot 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 — or at least, that was his intention. Nothing held meaning, and therefore even nothingness could be sprinted on like solid ground. Madly, he rushed with eyes firmly closed, uncaring of his destination, so long as it would eventually allow him
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to leave this hellish place. Perhaps some otherworldly will guided him in that moment, or fate had at last given up on appearing unbiased, but after what felt like an eternity of running, he 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭. He passed out of that uncreated void, the cradle of reality, and into
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the end of the world came to pass. His purpose was ruination.
So he was sent. A secret path led him from the realm of the Demon City to Creation, and his sole objective was the massacre of the tribe. Any who opposed him on his way there were to be annihilated as well, of
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defenses held. He burned his Essence with the single-mindedness of a man who knew it was his the only thing standing between him and an instant end, even as every emotion a human being could feel passed through him at a hundred times their usual intensity.
His eyes passed
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did not exist in Creation flickering in and out of his vision, a roiling mass of ultimate chaos where the Fair Folk held court. It sank its claws into him, attempting to unmake him body and soul, reduce his existence to the same unreality that it consisted of, but his
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give way.
In spite of his supernatural grace, there was no possibility of balancing on a single thread of reality when all else was the Wyld. The transition was instant: first there was the forest, the territory of his prey, and then a swirling mass of nothing, colours that
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territory.
The forest's green was drowned in red where he passed, and the souls who encountered him did not draw breath again. With every second he hastened deeper into the forest, the fraying fabric of the world, and destroyed all in his path. Eventually, something had to
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of the barbarians who sought to unmake Creation. These were the peoples who swore allegiance to the lords of the Raksha, enslavers of mankind and consumers of dreams. . . Though of course, his own masters saw them as nothing more than pests encroaching on their rightful
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Sixth. 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘩𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘩—————
A cyclone of violence. His orders were to massacre, and so he did. Even with his conscience reawakened after years of blind malice, he still saw little issue in the shedding of blood, especially that
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stop would mean relinquishing the blessings of Adorjan.
The second, a hulking brute with the features of a bull and a gorilla. The third, an agile warrior with the scales of a snake and six whip-like arms. Fourth. Fifth.
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inflicted on them, but before one such as he, a warrior of Malfeas. . .
The mutant lacked the time to raise his spear. In the span of a single breath, his body was cut into a dozen pieces, and Marden moved on before the sections of his corpse could fall to the ground; to
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